


Orphan Angel, Angel Ward

by undersail2013



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, Episode: s09e03 I'm No Angel, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 13:56:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undersail2013/pseuds/undersail2013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens after Dean drops a bomb in the bunker</p>
            </blockquote>





	Orphan Angel, Angel Ward

“But I don’t understand. You wanted me here so I’d be safe from the angels. And now you want to send me back out there, to face the Host alone?”

“No! Cas, no, I don’t _want_ to. But Sammy…”

Cas rolled his eyes but nodded. “I do understand,” he replied gently. “Sam always comes first.”

Throwing up his hands, Dean spluttered, “It’s not like that, Cas, it’s that-” He stopped. Thought a moment. “Walk with me.” He led Cas up a short staircase carved into the surrounding rock and down a few red-lit corridors. “You told me that you could detect angel warding somewhere under the kitchen. Well, I found it.”

“Where?”

“You’re in it,” Dean smiled, that rare sunny smile that only came out when he was proud of himself for outsmarting the smart guys. “This whole maze of hallways is a warding sigil.” 

Cas beamed his delight. “Very clever, Dean.” 

Dean marveled at how much brighter Cas’s emotions shone on his face, now that he was human. 

Cas spoke again. “That explains why it took so long for my bullet-wound to heal. A sigil of this size would have definitely impaired my regenerative abilities.”

“Shit.” Dean coughed suddenly and plunged back into his argument, walking the sigil as he spoke. “Look, let’s go over the roster. There’s you, the one angel within striking distance that everyone wants a piece of. There’s Sammy, who’s still, uh, subatomic from the demon trials-”

“Subatomic damage, yes. I can’t see deep enough anymore to know how quickly he’s healing, but by the muscle tone I’d guess that the electr-”

Dean held up a palm to stop Cas from talking. “Whoa. Chill, it’s cool.” He paused long enough to see that he had Cas’ attention again. “I’ve also got the King of Hell in my dungeon, and-”

“We may want to reconsider that decision.”

“What? Why?”

“Outside, Crowley could draw Abaddon’s fire, keep the heat off of us for a time.”

Dean weighed the suggestion. “Until they team up, or one or the other is dead,” he replied at last, “and then we’ve got the full force of both Heaven and Hell on our doorstep.” 

“Hmm. Perhaps.”

“So yeah, you, Sam, Crowley. And a prophet. And no archangels around to protect him anymore.”

Cas started to agree sadly when he flung out a hand to Dean’s forearm to stop him. His eyes went wide and he sucked in breath. “Unless…”

“Unless what?”

The ex-angel shook his head. “I don’t know. It would depend on the spell, of which I know practically nothing.” Dean simply stared, waiting for Cas to continue. He shook his head again, thinking. “It is entirely possible,” he murmured. “Dean, you saw the angelfall?”

“Yeah, all over the sky. They looked like shooting stars, like fireballs, coming through the clouds.”

“And their wings burned off.”

“Yeah. Uh.” He hesitated. “Yeah.”

“It was hard to see at first, through the trees. Do you remember seeing a flash of light in the western sky, like pure white grace?” 

“Not off-hand. Sam was dying, and you weren’t answering. I was a little distracted.”

“Hmm. Any reports of major earthquakes or volcanic eruptions that night?”

He cast his memory back, but he found only Sam’s lifeless body and the silence in his mind where Cas used to be. “We can look it up. Why?”

“It’s possible that Metatron ejected everyone but himself from Heaven. Or maybe… maybe he banished the angels to Earth. All of them, not just those in Heaven. Meaning-”

“-the Cage.” Dean’s heart was in his throat. Lucifer and Michael unleashed and spoiling for an Apocalypse. _Sam!_

Cas nodded slowly, approvingly, at Dean’s deduction. “He was gone a long time. He may have forgotten about Lucifer’s imprisonment, if indeed he ever knew of it. He may not have scrupled to use the easier spell.”

“What do we know about it right this second?”

“Not much, I’m afraid. Just the ingredients. Nothing that could counter the spell or even help me to pinpoint its exact purpose.” 

“I’ve got Kevin scouring the angel tablet for clues.”

“Dean, I-” he sighed and walked away; Dean fell in beside him. “Dean, there’s something I have to tell you. About the ingredients.”

“What is it, Cas?” 

“Do you remember what they were?”

“The first was the, uh, the Nephilim.”

“Her heart, yes. Poor girl.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“And the second?”

“Cupid’s bow.”

“And the third?”

Dean’s voice caught. “Your grace.” 

“Yes,” Cas whispered. “My grace. But why me? I’ve spent the last week wondering. Why me? And now I know why it had to be me. Why Metatron sought me out. He didn’t need a warrior, though he said as much. And unlike Crowley,” he winced, “he wasn’t even particularly drawn to my usual inflated sense of self. Though again I fell for flattery. No, it was my grace he needed.”

“So… Why you?”

Cas drew a deep breath and held his gaze steady on an invisible point somewhere beyond the end of the hall. “Each ingredient marked an intersection of love between angels and humans. The lovechild of a human and an angel. The instrument of an angel engaged in pair-bonding humans. Likewise, the grace he collected had to come from an angel… inlovewithahuman.”

Dean froze. He stopped, inhaled sharply. Cas turned just in time to watch Dean’s mouth move silently around the word “human.” His eyes shot to Cas’ and saw there the same terror, confusion, awe. 

Cautiously, Cas doubled back, hands held out in apology. “I’m sorry. I never meant to…” Dean grasped both his hands. “Dean, I-”

“Cas,” he breathed. His brow wrinkled. “Do you love me, Cas?”

Barely, infinitesimally, he nodded, mouth and eyes wide in fear. But a good fear. And a second later, warm lips reached for his. “Me too,” they mumbled.

 _This. This is what a kiss should feel like,_ Cas thought, snaking his arms timidly around the small of Dean’s back. Holding him loosely, unsure, and then smiling against his mouth as Dean stepped closer, closer still, bodies flush, Dean’s rough hands softly rumpling Cas’ hair. Effortlessly, Cas pushed away the unbidden memories of the demon and the reaper, their kisses vapid and unsatisfying, paling against the pure joy of kissing Dean Winchester. The sweet warmth, the love, the love, the love. How long did they stand in that dim corridor, breathing in one another’s breath, soul touching soul? There was once a Cas who could have detailed the exact number of seconds to ten significant digits, but he was gone; this Cas, this human Cas only knew that time spent in the arms of his own long-beloved human passed far too quickly. 

Neither hastened to let go, each still riding an unreasonable swell of happiness in his heart. Maybe a bit of pride mixed in: _this beautiful man in front of me, and he loves me. Why, how, who cares?_

Eventually the blood stopped thudding in Cas’ ears and he forced himself to give serious thought to Dean’s dilemma: how to keep home and hearth safe with a renegade ex-angel in residence? Surely Cas would have to go: he’d have to keep his distance to protect the others. It had worked in Purgatory. Except that it hadn’t worked there, either. “It seems a shame to leave now, but I’m powerless and it’s the only way I can protect you.”

“Leave now?” Dean’s love-addled brain took longer to reboot. “No, please don’t. Stay. I need you to stay.”

“Dean, I can’t. You can’t fight Heaven and Hell.”

“Neither can you,” he growled.

“Dean. You told me to go.”

“Can’t I be happy for ten minutes?!” he raged. 

Cas sighed. “Because I’m very satisfied with the idea of leaving,” he snarked.

Chastened, Dean pressed a quick kiss to Cas’ lips. “I’m sorry, Cas; I’m so unbelievably sorry. Most of all because you were stupid enough to choose me.” He sighed. “It’s my fault. I don’t deserve to be happy, so everyone around me suffers a lifetime of misery, too.” He chuckled darkly. “But at least no one suffers for very long, am I right?”

Cas’ eyes flashed. “It’s not you, Dean. Please don’t think that this is your mistake. I’m the one who has brought danger to our family. You can hardly be blamed for-”

“Cas, Sam’s possessed by an angel,” he blurted, pulling away.

“What?”

“Actually, that might be the best-case scenario.” Dean relayed to Cas the whole story, full confession, no omissions. The doctor saying that Sam’s life was in God’s hands, whatever that meant. The Chapel, the eerie radio silence from Cas, the rapid and violent response to his calling-all-angels appeal. Ezekiel and his assorted crap. Abbadon’s henchmen. Cas’ resurrection. And now Zeke’s attempt to blackmail Dean into dumping Cas back on the streets, just to protect his cozy Sam-shaped meatsuit. 

“The Ezekiel I know could easily heal an occupied vessel while recharging his own batteries, as you say, but freely erasing memories of oneself? Willfully suppressing the host’s consciousness? I don’t want to frighten you Dean, but I know of very few angels who could, or would, achieve such a feat. And most of them are dead or in Hell. If we’re lucky.”

Dean rubbed at his eyes. “Shit. Fucking fuck, I fucked up. So what do we do?”

“I’ll have to leave tonight. No question. We’ll want to make as much noise about it as possible, to make sure that whoever-it-is believes me to be gone, and more importantly, that you are completely isolated from me and my influence. We don’t want him to suspect that we suspect him, or Sam will be in very grave danger.”

“Okay,” Dean agreed numbly.

“It’s only a matter of time before he discovers and forbids any use of the angel tablet. Assuming of course, that the tablet is not his endgame. In the meantime, I’ll keep working on answers.”

“How? How will you find friendly angels?”

“I’ll look to the hunters. Some of them know me and won’t mind rendering discreet assistance.” He laughed now, a small chuckle wrapped in a smirk. “If all else fails, I’ll just have to fall back on my encyclopedic knowledge of spells and traps.”

Dean laughed, too. “Just don’t get cocky and try to save the world by yourself.” Dean crossed to Cas, scooping him close for one last kiss. Forever? No, for now. “I trust you, Cas.”

Cas smiled broadly, his eyes crinkling. “I love you, too, Dean.”

**Author's Note:**

> I compiled a few favorite theories that I've seen floating around. Is Ezekiel who he says he is? Could he be Lucifer? Just why did Metatron turn on his co-conspirator unless he needed Castiel's grace in particular? And of course, we're all searching for a little closure after that terrible, abrupt ending... If i slipped a little sugar into the mix, can you blame me?


End file.
